Suns Rising
by The JohhnyMcKilt Productions
Summary: Vamp fic.Oliver and Enrique have stuck by each other through everything. In the face of serious adversity, will they be able to succeed just one more time...and conquer even death?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: ...my first go at a vampire fic...I'm not expecting to succeed... TT.TT ...enjoy!xD

**Suns Rising**

_**Chapter One**_

"No he can't! HE CAN'T!"

Enrique Giancarlo-Tornatore stumbled as he raced through pristine white halls of the Hospital of Paris. His cousin who worked there as a nurse had called him immediately after they brought him in.

The paramedics said they found him in Luxembourg Park in shock. His body sported various deep and fatal wounds; the chances of survival were low.

"Oh please! Please let me see him!" the blonde pleaded most earnestly to the numerous staff who were bringing his best friend's body in the emergency room.

"We're extremely sorry sir, but Monsieur Les Desmond is in a very critical condition," an assistant surgeon calmly replied, despite her involvement with the general crowd who were fighting kidney and spleen to save the Frenchman's life. "Nurse please take Monsieur Giancarlo away!" The tone had risen to a shout.

"No please! I have to go see him! OLIVER!!"

The teen struggled valiantly with the nurse. Behind them, a couple of footfalls were growing louder and louder.

"We j-just heard," came Robert's voice.

"W-what the bloody h-hell h-happened?" added Johnny. The pair was panting, have run up the stairs instead of wait by the elevator.

Enrique freed himself from the nurse's slackened grip and broke down in the Scot's arms.

"I don't know!" he cried. "All they told me was that he was found in Luxembourg Park already wounded! No one knows what happened or how!"

"Well weren't there people in Luxembourg Park?!" the purple-haired man asked incredulously.

"Oh you know how Oliver trains!" the Italian retorted. "It just stupidly happened to be a stupid day without any stupid people in the stupid damn park!"

Johnny was pale, staggering from the with on the hysterical teen on top of him.

"Is he going to die?" was his quiet question.

The blonde, distressed and in tears, burst out, "Don't ask me that! I don't know! I really don't know!!" The force of his words was weakening. "We swore to protect each other with out lives...why this?"

The two elder aristocrats exchanged uneasy looks and tried their best to comfort the crying Italian.

After minutes that seemed like hours, the surgeon came out of the emergency room. Heavy stains on his scrub suit clearly displayed the extent of damage the patient held. With thoughtful, dejected mien, he approached the three waiting friends.

"L'monsieur has lost too much blood. It was rare and such could not be found immediately...I'm—"

The doctor's words were cut short at Johnny's gasp. Heads turned.

A stretcher bearing a human shaped lump covered by white sheets was being wheeled out of the ER. A pallid arm escaped its folds and limply subjected to gravity. On the back of it's hand was the week-old burn Oliver had gotten while he was preparing dinner in the German's mansion.

Enrique keened.

His gut-wrenching scream of anguish, like one witnessing the fall of pure grace, rang out through the entire hospital, jerking tears into its staff and their patients.

He collapsed on the floor, bringing Johnny and Robert with him. Words were stunned out of them.

The surgeon hung his head and went to a nurse behind the floor's help desk. With heavy heart, he instructed her to declare the Les Desmond heir, the pride and joy of Paris, dead.

An investigation of the greenette's scandalous passing was soon made. But nothing had been found and the case was hurriedly dismissed after a week. The rich trio took it upon themselves and did searching of their own with a passionate vengeance.

Finding any lead proved an extremely difficult task.

**TBC**

A/N: This first chap is a bit confusing, if you've got any queries just ask in a PM or review!! ...enjoy!xD and ciAo...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I sincerely hope I'd be able to finish the fic! It's quite nice, ne? Thanks for the reviews! ...enjoy!xD

**Suns Rising**

_**Chapter Two**_

Night had fallen over the Les Desmond Mansion in Paris, France.

Enriuqe was unceremoniously sprawled and sleeping on a bed in one of the many rooms the place held. The day had been devoted to turning Luxembourg Park upside down in the hopes of finding clues...without much success. Apparently, he was exhausted.

Johnny and Robert had not yet retired, but instead poured over volumes and volumes of medical and forensic science books on the large dining table downstairs, having finally gotten data of what Oliver's wounds looked like and were trying to find possible causes.

The blonde's window was open, letting cool evening breeze enter gaily.

Flimsy chiffon curtains fluttered this way and that, then for a flash of a second, revealed a delicate, pale foot stepping on the window sill. It vanished in an instant, for the owner was already in the bedroom.

The full moon gave a mysterious form an unearthly glow. Night winds made the weak fabric of the blood stained hospital gown dance around bare, slender legs. A serene but dull lavender-lilac gaze was focused on the solitary figure on the bed. He needed him badly for he was not yet complete.

With silent footsteps, the room was quickly trespassed and the bed invaded. A pale, steady hand tenderly caressed Enrique's tear-stained cheek with familiar loving kindness. The blonde shivered, for the touch was deathly cold, and a smile made itself known on delectable lips. These same lips soon made their way down to the tan neck and nuzzled the skin they found there; familiar scent overwhelmed hypersensitive senses, jerking a heavy yearning.

The lips stopped at a juncture between the neck and the shoulder blade. They stayed there for a moment, relishing the feel of a throbbing vein beneath it before parting to give way to two, needle-sharp fangs, which gently embedded themselves in supple skin.

The sleeping teen let out a shuddering breath as warm blood gushed out of his system and into the eager mouth that sucked at him. The pale being was careful to keep his ear on the weakening heartbeat of the former, making sure not to drink too much lest he'd kill him.

The raging torrent of crimson-colored life was perfect, of the right consistency. It coursed through a differently oriented system, awakening the new power it had been inadvertently cursed with. Those dull lavender orbs blazed with a new light.

Oliver Les Desmond was finally awake.

He let out his yearning but hungrily devouring the slightly open mouth of the one he thought he'd be eternally deprived of. The blood-coated lips pressed against soft, clean ones, begging entry to the dream inside.

Enrique was jolted awake by a tangy metallic taste on his tongue which he detested but could not go against. He was feeling weak and light headed.

"Oliver?" he croaked out wearily when they let go for air.

"I'm sorry..." the French boy smiled.

"What?" the Italian asked groggily and tried to sit up, but was forced down once more because the room had started spinning.

"Don't move," said Oliver and his best friend contented himself by looking at him with a squinted frown.

"Just like you not to stay dead..." began the disconcerted teen; apparently he thought he was having a screwed dream.

The greenette blushed and pouted. "Oh Giancarlo..."

Sleep slowly dispated from the latter's oxygen deprived head and weary summer blue eyes widened in realization.

"Am I dead too?" he breathlessly questioned Fate.

"No silly..." the Frenchman giggled.

Despite the lack of bodily energy, the elder boy forced himself to sit up and touch the pale arm to see if this bizzaire phenomena was real.

Tear-glazed lavender eyes followed the progress of the reluctant sun-kissed hand that kept pinching here and there. Soon the blonde fianlly seemed convinced, for he inhaled sharply and hugged whom he thought was forever gone.

"My God Oliver..." he whispered and buried his face in the hospital gown.

...he heard to pulse...no lively beat...

With doubt, he looked up at the greenette's sad smile.

"W-wait a minute," Enrique spotted the gleam of sharpened canines and he groaned, rolling back in bed, partly from exhaustion, partly from disbelief.

Oliver sighed and looked away, wondering if what he did was right before he heard the blonde say, "Come on...we have to tell Johnny and Robert..."

"We don't..."

"B-but you're alive!"

"...not technically..."

"They're still awake..."

"I know that."

"So they've seen you?"

"Um...no..."

"Then come on!"

"This can wait till morning..."

"No it can't!"

"Enrique?" a different voice interrupted the arguing two. "Are you still awake? Who's on the answering machine?"

The Italian was too exhausted to answer the German outside the door. "You've got _a lot_ of explaining to do..." here merely told the younger teen beside him.

Oliver bit his lip and lef the bed, crossing the room to open the door.

"...hi."

Robert frowned and looked at Johnny, who was with him, to see if they were looking at the same thing. The redhead confirmed this...on account that he was wearing a shocked version of his 'WTF?!' face.

"Must be fatigue..." murmured the purple-haired man.

"No..." Enrique replied from the bed. "Oli's real...and undead."

The youngest aristocrat shot a glare at his best friend. "Thanks Giancarlo."

"You owe us all an explanation!" Robert declared heatedly.

"Not...n-not exactly..." the Scot interjected. "We were coming up to tell you the possible causes of Oliver's wounds and one of them included vampire attacks, not that we thought they were real, but we thought it would lighten you up a bit."

They trooped in the room and sat on the blonde's bed.

"Yes. I DO owe you two an explanation," Oliver began, looking pointedly at the noble and the hothead. "But I owe Enrique an apology..." he corrected. "I'm sorry I made him worry...sorry I made you all worry, and sorry if I didn't ask permission when I fed from you..."

"It's nothing," his best friend weakly smiled.

The greenette nodded. "It began like this..."

FLASHBACK

With a whir and a click, Oliver Les Desmond expertly prepared his upgraded Unicolyon for another test run. It was one of those days where neither Parisians nor tourists wanted to venture in Luxembourg Park and he liked that.

Unnoticed behind a dense population of trees was a group of seven vampire brothers, having escaped the clutches of a hunter and were in desperate need of a victim.

Without much fuss or noise, they tackled the unwary Frenchman to the ground. A kid, no older than himself, kept his hand clamped over his mouth and was pinning him with unearthly strength, while the other elder six helped themselves.

Oliver's eyes widened as he inhaled in slow surprise when six different sets of fangs embedded themselves into his wrists, neck, stomach...anywhere that would draw blood easily once punctured.

The greenette's hitched breath soon turned to laborious weezing as life gradually ebbed from his body. He was on the brink of unconsciousness when his youngest captor released him and prepared to have his own fill. The others moved to give him space, after all...this kid, only their most powerful brother, had the right to have the last say on their victim. The greenette merely sensed the boy bend over him, and sink his razor sharp canines into the skin just above his heart.

Heat and chills ravaged Oliver's worsening system all at once. His mind reeled and the pitiful, fist-sized organ in his chest throbbed wildly, wanting to possibly escape the prevalling madness by ending its life with one gratifying prick.

Consuming the last ounces of strength left in him, the wounded, bloody French boy let out a final cry as the edge of a fang grazed his frenzied heart...

...and he shut down. Only then did the vampires leave him in piece.

END FLASHBACK

By the end of his story, Oliver was being embraced by overwhelmed friends, with the exception of Enrique, who was fine with crying.

Robert and Johnny wanted to ask so many questions but instead contented themselves with a, 'What are you going to do now?'

The young aristocrat's expression turned melancholic. "Not exactly anything I want," he replied. "...the whole world knows I'm dead right?"

The other three nodded with the same heavy air.

"I don't know..." said the Frenchman blankly and returned his attention to making his tired lover unnecessarily comfortable. "I'm not really sure of what's myth or fact for a vampire...without knowing my limitations, I'm pretty much in danger of everything."

The German and the Scot exchanged glances.

"We'll get started on research immediately," the former assured.

"Whatever for?" the blonde lazily protested. For the past few weeks he inwardly hated seeing the pair drain themselves without fruit. Now that their queries had been answered, he was sure that both would get well-earned rest.

"We want Oliver to know what's good for him and what's not..." said the redhead. "We lost him once and we all know how hard that was...especially for you, Enri. We don't want to lose him again."

Nobody could argue with that.

"In the meantime," Robert smiled. "Both of you make up for time you almost lost."

With that, the elder pair left in slight disconcertation.

"Look," Enrique told his best friend after a moment. "If you need to feed I'll always be here..."

"Oh no 'Rique," Oliver replied hastily. "There are other people--"

"--I don't want you going out drawing too much attention to yourself." was the stern reply. "Besides, I can cope."

"Oh Enrique," exclaimed the greenette and flung his arms around him.

--

"I get this feeling you were expecting this to happen," the purple-haired man told hi best mate as they were about to get ready for bed. "You don't seem surprised."

Johnny frowned a bit in confusion and shrugged. "Not that I wasn't surprised...it's just that earlier on I still couldn't accept the fact that Oliver was dead. It still felt like that incident was all a big joke and he was still alive."

They settled on the mattress together and stared at the ceiling for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I'm worried about those two," Robert confided. "Enrique's rapidly changed in a smal amount of time and no doubt Oliver has too...in a number of ways..."

"...it's not our privilege or right to interfere," the Scot countered. "Trust their friendship, Rob. Those two have been through fat and thin together. They still manage to come out fresh with not a carefully styled lock of hair out of place."

"I'm thankful Oliver came back in any way possible..." the elder teen continued. "Any longer and Enri would have followed him without a moment's hesitation after we've given the death justice."

His companion smirked. "I honestly admire the devotion those two have for each other...it sometimes makes me think we aren't worthy to be acquainted with such people."

Robert did not reply.

**TBC**

A/N: sorry for any typos! ...enjoy!xD and ciAo...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for the support in this story!! …enjoy!xD

**Suns Rising**

_**Chapter Three**_

"I've just had a revelation!" Oliver declared one warm night as he bounced down the Grand Staircase of his home, having just woken up.

The three Europeans on the dining table had been in the middle of eating supper and they halted in mid-bite all at the same time much to the former's amusement.

"Is that a good thing for you or a bad thing for me?" Enrique, who by then had sufficiently recovered, grinned. "Either way, there isn't any difference…"

His best friend dismissed the cheek with the casual wave of a hand. "You haven't changed, have you Giancarlo?" as he joined the small party.

"We've gotten pretty far in our research," Robert proudly told the greenette.

He beamed. "Amazing! In two days?"

Johnny shrugged. "We've developed a knack…besides, the Jurgen's rotting stockpile in the basement was very useful."

"It's a library in the dungeons…" the German corrected with a frown. "Excuse Jonathan. He's still bitter for I made him carry all our heavy volumes," he added in a mock-apologetic tone, earning him a whack.

"Lay on what you've got," said the French boy. "After that I'll tell you my revelation…" and he giggled.

"Well, contrary to what most people accept," the hothead began. "You vampires are pretty indestructible. No amount of holy water, crosses, garlic, onions or hot sauce or any of that jazz can cause so much as a paper cut…"

"Demons have developed immunity," the purple-haired man remarked. "So why shouldn't you?"

Oliver nodded. "What about daylight?"

"You can stand in it," the Scot continued. "…for as long as you like and you won't melt. But then people like you have lower toleration for solar heat than the average human, so when you're in Egypt, that's bad."

"Any..." he thought more of the myths he had often read or watched. "Powers?"

"We've only collected a general few," said Robert. "…but it's an impressive set. Hypersensitive senses, faster reflexes, stronger stamina, refined agility, more than above average strength…you can't turn into a bat though…shape shifters are another specie. Other special abilities aren't known yet, or they aren't consistent so there isn't a guarantee that the gifts of some vampires shall be the same as yours."

"Eternal life?"

Johnny smiled. "It's par for the course...given that you don't get murdered. As a bonus, you also have eternal youth."

"Speaking of getting murdered, how exactly does a vampire get killed?"

"Gunshot and stab wounds won't do anything to you..." the redhead reassured. "Suffocation, strangling, hanging and drowning are useless too. Water won't decompose you if you're wondering what will happen if you get stranded out in sea, but hunger will drive you insane. As long as your entire body is still whole, you're fine. But if you crash a plane, jump off a building, mince, chop, butcher, slice, dice yourself, make a stew out of you, get run over by a bus and send a leg flying...you're dead.

"...uh...thanks John," answered the young chef uneasily. "What about..." he bit his lip before hesitantly whispering, "...food."

All this time, the blonde Italian had been following the conversation like he would a tennis match. At the mention of Oliver's passion whilst the boy was still alive, he laughed.

"Erm..." The German and the Scot exchanged looks. "We're sorry Oli," said the elder teen. "The only thing that can sustain you is blood. Human food would have the same effect on you as is will to a ghost."

"...can I taste it?"

Johnny shook his head solemnly. "Food smells better than it tastes anyway."

The Frenchman was in deep thought for several minutes. "You've got a point," he then remarked tersely. "Thank you for all the information." He brightened. "Now for my revelation!"

Enrique smiled and sat back in his chair. "This sounds good."

"I've been thinking that from now on would be the best opportunity to do the things I've never been able to do because of...restrictions."

"How?" Robert asked innocently.

"Easy..." was the somewhat blank-casual reply. "I'll be posing as Enrique's new girlfriend. It's understandable."

"It might get screwed out there..." protested the redhead weakly. "I don't think it would be safe for you to be out..."

Oliver smiled sadly. "Oh come on John, give me a break. Not once did I enjoy going out on my own...having rough fun because of what my family demanded of me when I was...alive. Now I've been robbed of even that and..."

His best friend leapt from his seat to save him from possibly crying. "Oh can it and say yes, okay? He'll be fine with me," the blonde sighed. "Honestly you aren't left with much things to do if you were in Oli's state."

"Johnny's just concerned," said the German. "There isn't harm in that...and I don't think there's harm in enjoying the things you haven't been able to either. Just you two take care of yourselves."

Johnny shrugged. "Leave it to Rob and I to find more about your kind. The information would sure help..."

Lilac-lavender eyes softened. "A thousand thanks won't suffice...just remember to rest every few...or we'll have to force you, won't we, 'Rique?"

"You know it!"

The four friends laughed and the elder pair soon went to bed, calling it a day.

"You're planning a long night, aren't you?" the Italian smirked as they were sure of their solitude.

"Not exactly," replied the greenette. "Just a walk..."

"Hm. Someone's an insomniac tonight. I'll get ready."

--

A slender figure leaned on the door frame of Oliver's bedroom.

The latter had been in the middle of putting on toffee-colored contacts. He already had one on when he turned to acknowledge his visitor, making him look very odd.

Enrique smirked and sauntered over to his lover, doing a feel ski in the guise of fixing the younger boy's top.

"You look prettier as a girl," he said as he rested his chin on the Frenchman's shoulder, who was trying to fit his stubborn grass-hued hair under a more of less convincing sea-blue wig.

"I don't know if I should bite you for that."

"...and the fact you are a boy makes your looking like a girl all the more worth it."

Oliver blushed. "Come on, En. It'll be a couple of hours till the sun rises. I don't want Johnny and Robert to worry about us not being in the house at morning."

And so the pair left discreetly...to enjoy a night that was entirely theirs.

--

They walked quietly, immersed in their own thoughts. Their feet automatically carried them to a familiar path, and when they came to, they were standing on the threshold of Oliver's training space in Luxembourg Park.

The scene that greeted them was ironic in effect. The fountains were still merrily spewing water in graceful, glittering jets as moonlight hit them. Artistically trimmed plants still held their leaves high, proudly offering shade to anyone who wished. The gravel was still clean and swept...but then everything looked to empty.

The place held a sad impression of someone being kept waiting and ignorant of what was already lost.

It seemed that the Parisians were planning to conserve the place in the park and declare it off limits in memory of the city's pride and joy. Not a stone had been moved from its original position; Oliver and Enrique were sure of that...

...because of tell-tale stains beside the raised platform of the polished training dish.

Overcome with a weird, jerking emotion, the playboy and the snob made for each other's hands and together slowly approached the spot where the French Champion let rip his last beybattle.

It was the only spot that looked out of place among such beauty.

The blonde got down on one knee and hesitantly ghosted his fingertips over the sun-dried blood.

"Mon Dieux..." the greenette breathed, having just remembered something. "Unicolyon..."

His best friend stood up. "Oh yeah. But it's most likely that those vampires who attacked you stole it or something."

The other boy frowned. "But why would they be interested in those kinds of stuff?"

The Italian gave him a what-do-you-think?! look, but Oliver wasn't convinced.

"He isn't like that...he has to be here. He must've returned! This is the only place he knows he'll be safest in..."

Enrique did not want to reply. His tanned hand slipped in his pocket to caress his Amphilyon, who's grief he suddenly felt.

Without knowing exactly what to do or look for, the French boy turned to the dense clump of trees across the dish. He was torn between finding his dear friend and considering Enrique's observation.

...until there was a great deal of rustling leaves behind them.

Lilac-lavender and summer blue eyes widened simultaneously at the sound of a low whinny very close to them. The pair wheeled about just as a gigantic, magnificent unicorn emerged from where he hid for about more than two weeks.

"Uni!" his guardian exclaimed and stretched out a pale hand to stroke him.

The horse faltered, got frightened and stepped back.

"Unicolyon, it's me..." Oliver sighed and once more approached him.

The great beast soon recognized his friend and expressed utter joy as unicorns can only do when the greenette hugged him.

"Oh my..." whispered the Frenchman, petting and stroking Unicolyon's mane as if there were no tomorrows. "I wish I could take you back again, Uni. I wish I could play with you again but I can't..." Tears of blood streamed from closed eyes as the mystic animal nudged his cheek and whinnied in distress.

"I'm sorry—"

"Oliver," Enrique placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What?" he sniffed and faced him.

The Roman smiled. "You look like you have a bad nosebleed..."

"Oh shut up Giancarlo."

Unicolyon licked the blonde and he cried out in mock annoyance before pulling out Amphilyon and presenting her to his best friend.

"No Enrique, I can't do that..." exclaimed Oliver.

The elder boy ignored the protest. "Even if Amphi has two heads, she could still use some company...besides, I know you'd be totally lost without Uni. I can tell."

"Oh Enrique!" and the air in his lungs was squeezed out of him in a too-tight hug.

"In you go," Enrique told the huge bitbeast when he pulled away from his friend.

Unicolyon gave a happy neigh and gratefully entered the indicated bit chip. It glowed and hummed sweetly for a moment, before subsiding.

"Keep it..." the blonde continued, placing the blade in Oliver's hand. "You need it more than I do."

"Oh Enrique," the French boy said once more. "How can I ever thank you?" he smiled as they leaned toward each other for a intense kiss.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for the support on this story! ...enjoy!xD

For disclaimer purposes...I DON'T OWN THAT WINE BRAND!

**Suns Rising**

_**Chapter Four**_

"Where are you two off today?" Robert asked amusedly as Oliver and Enrique enter the Jurgen Mansion's dining hall, identically clad in jeans and sweatshirts.

The pair looked as they would almost any day; the only difference was that the French boy's hair and eye color were not the same. He had forever discarded his beloved beret, for the purposes of keeping his...or rather, her new identity.

"We heard that Oli's restaurant had just re-opened under new management," the Roman answered. "We'd like to pay it a visit."

"Don't go traveling too often," Johnny told them, handing them as easy-to-prepare breakfast. "How many hours of sleep did you two get last night after that walk?"

A pair of crimson eyes swiveled in the redhead's direction. The amazing teen noticed most things. The greenette had been in the middle of drinking strong wine and immediately blushed at the question.

"...about three or four hours."

"You two should be sleeping today," said the Scot. "The restaurant can wait another day."

"But we can't," replied Enrique. "Both of you can come with us; we'll wait. I'm not allowing you to coop yourselves in this house either."

The German shook his head. "Thanks but no thanks Enrique, and don't worry about us."

The second youngest sighed, far from being convinced. His best friend took his hand.

"We're off."

"Take care and tell us all about it," called the Highlander as the pair exited the kitchen and faced the front door.

Oliver hesitated. Enrique looked back to see if there was any problem.

"Well, what d'you know..." laughed the vampire nervously. "I'm scared."

The playboy smiled tenderly and forcefully steered the younger boy out into the sunshine.

---

The Giancarlo heir hesitantly approached the huge restaurant's reception. The place was teeming with people. Their conversations were carried out in a hushed, reserved way and he had a sure hunch about the general topic.

"Uh..._ahem_...Bongiorno Aline."

The woman behind the desk jumped. "Ah! Bonjour Monsieur Giancarlo. How may I help you today?"

Blue eyes narrowed at the sudden disappearance of his date but momentarily waved the problem aside as he replied to the receptionist good-humoredly. "How's about finding a table? Or is the place full?"

Aline shook her head. "Oh no, monsieur...not as full as we expected it to be on our re-opening...um, table for how many?"

"Two."

"Two?"

"Yes, two."

The woman frowned and searched the Italian for who he could possibly be with when a blue-haired toffee-eyed Oliver popped up.

"Ah!"

"Bonjour!" he greeted in a more feminine pitch.

"...uh, my girlfriend." Enrique filled in with an apologetic killer smile. "Her name is Genévive."

The younger boy shot him a look; both knew that the name was conceived on the spot.

Aline was staring at Genévive with a stupid look on her face. But soon she dismissed the impossible idea in her head. Fate was playing tricks on her; their well-loved boss was dead and gone. This face in front of her was only too identical, but just a passing face nonetheless.

"There's an available table, messieurs. If you would follow me..." She left the welcome desk and led the pair inside.

There was no hiding that all-too-obvious gasp from the eating customers as the late owner's best friend waltzed in with a new girl. A hush fell over them as they all cast Oliver a second look.

The first glance was a dream. The second was the alarm clock, and everyone went back to their dishes, somewhat having lost appetites, as the loss of the greenette hit them will full force once more.

Not until the playboy and the snob were finally seated were they left in peace.

"This feels weird," said the French boy in a nervous fluster that had gripped him as soon as he stepped into his own restaurant. "I'm not usually the customer here..."

Enrique smirked. "Hey..." he said after a while. "Everything's going to be fine. Just relax, okay? ...what's the name of my favorite waiter here again? You know him..."

"Tirelli? You can ask for him."

The blonde did this and soon a young melancholic brunette in a chef's uniform approached the table. Upon seeing who it was, he broke into a beautiful sad smile.

"Monsieur Giancarlo! What a pleasant surprise! And what may be the name of your lovely madame?"

"Genévive," was Oliver's demure response, catching Tirelli's full attention.

The man was unable to speak for several moments. Like those before him, his grief and everything that went with it was deceiving him.

"Are you alright?" the Italian asked him.

"Eh? Oui monsieur," he replied, losing a bit of his professionalism. "_Je suis desolé_. It has been stressful lately."

Enrique 'ah'-ed and his companion fell silent. "We just wanted to know how you lot are catching on," continued the former. "Who's running the place now?"

Tirelli smiled his sad smile. "I am, monsieur." Oliver brightened up at that. "Shall you place your orders now?"

"Oh no..." said the playboy. "Perhaps later. For now just a--"

"_Veuve Clicquot_." the snob finished absently and soon found the other two looking at him.

...Genévive forgot..._Veuve Clicquot_ was Oliver's favorite champange. Nevertheless, the chocolate-haired chef left the table and Enrique almost fell in a dead faint with his sigh of relief.

"Pinch me when I do that," groaned the greenette, placing his head in his hands.

"Oh I'll do more than pinch you..." was the reply. "Come on, let's look for something to eat."

"Oh!" Oliver exclaimed, wearing an expression of anguish. "I can't..."

His lover shot him an incredulous look. "Why ever not?"

"Remember what Johnny said? I won't be able to taste a thing. Besides, it's a total waste of money. I can feed...someday, somewhere. You don't need to bother about it right now."

"Even just something here that's raw, or has blood...steak...anything--"

The suggestion sounded ridiculous and not to mention absurd. Oliver couldn't help but laugh. "Enri-love, you don't have to. I insist..."

Enrique sighed. "If you must, but eat soon, ayt?"

"I will I will..."

"How long does it take till your kind goes insane from hunger anyway?"

The Frenchman looked thoughtful. "Come to think of it, I have no idea. We could ask those two research-addicts back at home."

At that moment, Tirelli came back, bearing the much coveted champagne and asked. "Would _l'monsieur_ like to place his order?"

The pair exchanged looks.

"Um," Genévive began. "I would just like to know; I don't mean to be rude but...does the restaurant still serve...Florentine Omelettes? I've heard they're made extremely well here."

The Italian made a tremendous effort to suppress a snort as the waiter-executive chef gave his date an uneasy look. She reminded him so hauntingly of his late colleague that he was absolutely sure he'd be too sick to work tomorrow.

"I'm sorry, madame," he managed to answer. "Florentine Omelettes have ceased to be our specialty. No one else in this world can define the omelettes made here as good as Monsieur Les Desmond had."

"Oh." The boy reddened considerably. "It's alright...I'm terribly sorry for the loss--"

"Your order?" Tirelli interrupted quite forcefully, turning to Enrique with hopeful air.

"He'll have a Floating Island with a dose of cocoa powder," Genévive, in her nervous state, wasn't able to keep her mouth shut.

The brunette tried his hardest not to lash out and tell the girl to stop being so damned insensitive. "Wh...What about you, madame?"

"The drink is fine."

Tirelli was grateful to leave, but not without a scornful whisper to Enrique.

"I see why you have fallen for l'madamoiselle. She is just like him!"

When he was out of earshot, the blonde burst into raucous giggles.

"DID you see the look on his face?!"

Oliver was still red. "I shouldn't have done that..."

"Damn right you shouldn'tve!" grinned his best friend. "You gave him a cardiac arrest making him remember all those stuff."

"Speaking of that," the greenette added in a sudden dark tone. "I bet all these people here didn't come to eat."

"...but to see who's the new management!" was the finish. "Not exactly the most polite thing to do."

When the hangover of laughs left the Giancarlo heir, he looked at the French boy with his eyebrows furrowed.

"You missed something in your 'transformation' this morning. No wonder people stare at you..."

"Really? What?"

"Your eyebrows are still green."

"...oh great," and in the most girlish fashion, he pulled out a mirror from his purse and glanced at himself before stowing it back in. "Must've overlooked it. Why can't stores have wigs for eyebrows?" he complained in a most serious tone that he sent the Italian laughing again.

He noted in passing that almost everything seemed to be back to normal. He felt a fleeting sense of pity for Oliver's nearest and dearest who did not know he still existed.

"Tell me, Enri," the greenette snapped him out in a hushed tone. "Are those the Barthez Battalion and FDynasty on table 29? It's eight tables away from ours...behind me, behind me!"

Enrique stole a look over his companion's shoulder. "Yeah, how did you know?"

"I heard them." The sound of chair legs scraping the floor soon reached hypersensitive ears and he added. "They're coming this way, aren't they? Oh I don't want to turn around..."

"Yep," was his reply and sure enough, the other two European teams were looming over them.

"Hey Enrique," greeted Miguel. "How are you?"

The Italian supported his head with his hand as he turned to face the Spaniard. "Everything's quite alright. I'd ask you all to take a seat but this is only a table for two..."

And speaking of two. "Oh yeah...everyone," he smiled and indicated Oliver beside him. "Meet Genévive."

They brightened. Claude held out his hand to the bluenette. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," was the modest, smiling reply but the hand was left untaken, for the vampire thought it was the best thing to do.

"Are you sure it's okay for you to be dating so soon?" asked Miguel. "Or has the incident _straightened_ you out so rapidly?"

Both the young aristocrats got the 'joke' and had the same initial reaction. The snob soon laughed though and the playboy remained flushed and stunned at the tan teen's bluntness.

"Miguel!" Julia and Mathilda scolded lightly as Aaron and Raul snickered.

"She isn't your usual type, though..." the redhead among them remarked casually. "But I guess it's an improvement...modest, well-mannered...like a real lady, unlike--"

"I get the point, Raul," the blonde groaned.

Oliver couldn't help it, he laughed again. Were conversations really going to be this way once he passed away? The thought was hilarious.

"On behalf of my friends," Claude began apologetically to Genévive. "I'm horribly sorry if they're acting like this. A dear friend of Enrique's just died, see..."

"So I've heard," was the clear, good-natured reply.

"...and before you," Miguel butt in. "They were extremely close. And if you've known Enri-poo long enough, you should keep in mind that you wouldn't last for long as his girlfriend...no offense."

"Miguel!"

Julia gave him a shove, but she was smiling nonetheless. "If I knew better, I'd say you're bullying her!"

"None taken!" answered Enrique's date in the same mildly amused, amiable tone. "Besides, I have complete confidence that I shall be able to last very long begin 'Rique's...chick."

"That's the way to talk!" encouraged Mathilda. "Ignore Miguel...really."

"He misses Oliver too much." Aaron continued.

"...we all do..." Claude and Raul added in unison.

The blonde and the greenette exchanged uncertain glances. The latter felt a pang of guilt in his chest but ignored it.

"Could we please talk about something else?" the former snapped.

Miguel shrugged. "Just glad to see you haven't jumped off the window ledge of a 50-storey building, that's all. We can't exactly mooch around you table all afternoon. Stay healthy Giancarlo...and nice meeting you senyorita Genévive."

With that, the group took their leave.

"Miguel was bitter," smiled Oliver. "There's no other explanation."

"Man, changing the circumstances I would've punched his lights out," growled his best friend.

"Makes me miss them..."

Enrique became preoccupied with fiddling with something under the table. The French boy saw summer blue eyes widen.

"Blimey..."

"What is it?"

A beyblade was placed on the table top. In its centre, Amphilyon and Unicolyon had merged.

The pair stared at each other in surprise. Seconds later, Tirelli returned with their orders and they talked of other matters.

The small phenomenon was promptly forgotten.

**TBC**

A/N: Forgive typos! Tell me what you think! ...enjoy!xD and ciAo...


	5. Chapter 5

WRITERS WHO ARE ALSO DEVIANTS!

I've got an announcement...if you're into Original Character Battles with an enigmatic End of the World theme, **JOIN DESSIMINATION: The Time of Reckoning** hosted by **Aleksandros**. Also encouraged are those who don't know how to draw, but have a good imagination! **Please see my profile page for the links.**

A/N: Thanks for the support on this story! It's well appreciated! ...enjoy!xD

**Suns Rising**

_**Chapter Five**_

"I was born in Paris, raised in Paris, made famous in Paris, killed in Paris, reborn in Paris...and STILL I don't know if the place has a Red Light District." Oliver sighed.

Robert dropped a large volume he was reading on his foot. Johnny spat out what he was drinking. Enrique...well...laughed.

"What?" coughed the Scot, nursing his mate's sore toe. "Why ever?"

"I want to go clubbing," was the plain reply.

True, the greenette was dressed for it. His hair was pink that night. His top was a cream-blue peasant blouse that looked two sizes to small as it showcased his curves. His skirt was a plain white one used for tennis. His silver stilettos were of the overly-strappy kind, as if it were an open-toed version of those traditional ballet shoes. The pencil-thick heels were three inches high.

"Ask Enrique," said the redhead. "If you're looking for clubs, he's the guy to know."

"I don't go clubbing in Paris," the Italian protested. "I go clubbing...erm," he cleared his throat. "...back at home."

"I know you go clubbing here, Johnny," said the French boy.

"You what?!" the purple-haired noble among them yelped at his boyfriend.

"Yaagh!" the other squeaked, trying to dodge the elder teen's well-aimed whacks. "I USED to! But not recently!"

"Oh please recommend some good ones!" Oliver pleaded. "I've never gone clubbing ever!"

"Yeah," Enrique added. "Tell...it's been a while since I've gone dancing too..."

- - - -

The heavy smoke, the heat of liquor, the tantalizing stench of pressed bodies, the noise, the lights and the darkness all toyed with hypersensitive senses, heightening the mood.

"Shall we dance/" a certain Frenchman asked his lover in a voice not quite his own, sending shivers down the Italian's spine.

He had been lounging in his plastic chair, watching people go crazy on the dance floor. At the question, a summer blue gaze, deepened by lust into an ocean deep hue, turned to him. The reply was tanned digits intertwining themselves in pale, slender, well-defined ones as he dragged him to the center of the club.

It was total freedom. No one around them cared about two teenage boys getting too close to each other. The press of different bodies didn't hinder the pair from weaving a world all to themselves, a world which ran on the passion for the other that was withheld by a mere thread...

Both boys wound about each other like snakes being charmed by floor-shaking beats. With an unquenchable sort of fury they desperately ground their groins against each other. A shuddering sigh of pleasure escaped the French boy's lips as his best friend slithered down, tracing his figure ever so gently. He achingly paused by the midriff and became frisky there.

Lavender-lilac eyes widened as a pleasant tingle coursed through him like an electric shock. Without words, the greenette pulled them both out the crowd and in a dark hallway leading to the rooms for rent upstairs in case the customers that haunted the joint needed a quick relief.

In this solitude, Oliver and Enrique attacked each other, unleashing the impatient beasts inside them, using their tongues as powerful weapons. The play had been fair enough...

...until blood was drawn.

Hurriedly exercising a tremendous amount of self-control, the paler teen pulled away from the kiss and sank to the floor beside his best friend, panting. The Roman, too, was catching his breath, wiping a trail of his own blood from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry, Enri," said Oliver brokenly as a pang or hunger twisted his stomach. "Haven't really fed for three days..."

The blonde's expression softened. He understood what was needed and cupped the younger boy's soft cheek.

"Come on, let's leave," he said gently. "Not here with a lot of people."

- - - -

"Enrique, you don't have to do this. I'll be alright..."

But he wouldn't listen.

"Look Oliver, for a fact I know you wouldn't like sinking you teeth into any other person's throat so I'm all the blood-slavery you'll ever get! I'm perfectly alright with this..."

The grass-haired boy sighed. "You do too much..." he said then smiled.

The elder teen shivered as butterfly kisses ghosted across his dusky throat before it tore under sharp fangs.

A succulent moan erupted from deep within the vampire. His intake was slow, being wary of the frantic heartbeat of his mate. When it calmed to a danger point, the younger one pulled away and lapped gently at the punctures. They melted as if they were sugar.

With some regret, Oliver noted that Enrique was extremely tired to stay conscious. Far a couple of peaceful hours, the pair basked in the glory of the moon and stars.

The silence of the night was broken by hopeless sighs. Once more, tears of blood trekked the slop of the fair-skinned Frenchman's cheek.

Even though he held his best friend close, they were two worlds apart. He was now a child of darkness, robbed of the very life that once helped light up the world. Whilst the boy in his arms was the sun...his sun, as he had been forced to dispose what was the true sun and fight for a false one he made to keep him sane with meaning.

Damn the wretched curse that ensnared his being for eternity!

Tears of blood fell gently on supple, tan skin. The spark of feeling found its way into the Italian's oxygen-deprived head and summer blue eyes opened.

"Oliver?"

"Don't tire yourself, Enrique. We're going home."

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: The steady updating for this fic shall slowly come to a stop until I find enough inspiration to continue writing the seventh chapter. Hope you enjoy the sixth!xD

**Suns Rising**

_**Chapter Six**_

"My God," whispered Robert. "Did something happen?"

Oliver was quiet, careful not to rouse the extremely sleepy Enrique in his arms.

"No..." he replied. "He's just...exhausted from feeding."

"That idiot!" Johnny exclaimed. "He doesn't have to do this to himself!"

"...that's what I keep telling him..."

"Robert and I are right here!"

"...I've got options."

"He talks as if he we don't have blood in us, or we're not good enough! What is he trying to prove, huh?"

"Easier said than done, Johnny," interrupted a groggy voice. "I wouldn't want anyone else to experience what I'm going through, 'kay? You wouldn't either if you were me..."

Robert saw that Johnny was about to fling a retort once more and hurried to grab his hand. The Scot shot him an incredulous look, but the expression on his mate's face made his words die inside him.

"...and why are you two still up anyway? DO NOT tell me both of you stayed up the entire night waiting--"

"Uh, no!" the German laughed apologetically, fearing the Roman's wrath. "We've found some important research."

"You and your research..."

"Hey you," said the redhead, hiked up with his momentary ranting spree. "This information could practically save your lives!"

"Let's hear it then," said the greenette in a mild tone, settling his best friend on the couch before sitting down with the blonde's head on his lap.

"There's a reason why demons are being hunted," began the purple-haired man.

"When we say demons, this includes vampires, lycans, shape shifters and the rest," added Johnny.

"In reality," Robert continued. "Hunters themselves are demons. Either they don't know it or they've chosen to disown themselves, but their passion for your elimination is fueled by the irrepressible desire to rise to the top of the food chain, to become unbeatable...the best."

"...that's...That's it?" the French boy said in disbelief. "That's quintessentially it?"

The eldest aristocrat shrugged. "It's main idea...with more than a million underlying reasons."

A weak blonde raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Parents were murdered by so and so," Johnny answered. "Village was burned down by this and that. Grudges, jealousy, personal things...the common crap."

"See here," said the German. "All of the hunters are after thing that has been in the hands of demons. For centuries, this _thing_ has been sought after...without much success."

"What is it?" asked Oliver.

"It looks like a blue luminescent mineral," Robert explained. "But before, it was a heart of a demon child, killed by the first hunter out of cold blood."

"The incident," he continued. "...set off a chain reaction. The hunted wanted revenge; their intentions were misinterpreted and you know the rest. Anyway, demons of all kinds around the world have made it their duty to protect the stone and refrain it from getting into enemy hands."

'There is the belief," his lover added. "...that when the heart reaches the hunters, it will give forth extraordinary power, making them an unstoppable, indestructible force."

"That can't happen..." said the Italian, making an effort to raise his head. "It'll upset the Natural Balance and Order of things on Earth..."

"I see..." said the youngest of the party and lapsed into a deep silence, turning over in his mind what he had just heard.

- - - -

The heat of the noonday sun struck a certain pale face the moment he stepped out of double oak doors for a walk around the capital.

Oliver daren't go out on his own as Genévive, and so for that afternoon, he sported his own green hair with hazel gray contact lenses. He also changed his outfit, donning a pastel-hued sweater-vest over a white polo and black slacks with leather shoes. By the simple alterations such as a pony tail, he was unrecognizable.

The young Frenchman found himself heading for the Eiffel Tower. It was one of those rare days where tourists and other folk weren't haunting the top level, hence he had its solitude to himself.

The boy stood in a corner, staring dispassionately at the dizzying view, immersed in his own thoughts. He was unaware of his surroundings and failed to notice a band of seven brothers who also took advantage of the emptiness of the highest floor. They looked like they were in the middle of a heated family argument...or so the greenette thought.

"Would you want those hunters to slice you open just like what they did to your best friend?!" hissed the shortest and possibly youngest of them to an uneasy-looking elder brother. "They KNOW it's with you! You need to give it up NOW and pass it on to someone else. It's only a matter of time before they'd be able to track you down..."

Artificially colored hazel gray eyes warily turned to the direction of the voices. Oliver's body stiffened as he tried to make himself as discreet as possible. Nervousness was making him shake...who could these beings be?

"But to whom?" answered a deep voice. It must have been the elder brother replying.

"I don't know yet," said the youngest. "But we shall find someone."

"Now come," cooed yet another brother. "Let's get this stone out of your system..."

_Stone_. Could it be?

The sound of heavy retching reached the greenette's hypersensitive ears. His mental image was nothing compared to the real thing, but he was glad to leave it at that. A series of squelching sounds and the splatter of thick liquid hitting the floor followed. It was then curiosity got the better of him and he slid behind a pillar to watch the group unnoticed.

Oliver almost gave himself away in surprise. These brothers were the very same ones who turned him into a vampire! His stomach flipped and his throat went dry. If they knew he was there...the consequences were unthinkable.

Who looked like the fifth brother was kneeling on the floor in a large puddle of blood, clutching his torso, face contorted in pain. It was the third brother who had helped him cough up the stone. The eldest of the seven was rubbing his back.

"You threw up a lot of blood, Andre," the youngest remarked lightly. He was down on one knee in order to see his sibling's face. In his bony hand he gripped a beautiful, perfectly round, fist-sized, sky blue gem. It gave off a surreal comforting glow that seemed to light up the entire floor.

"Don't worry about that, though. We'll find you someone to feed on...and it'll be the first mortal on this floor. I promise you won't be seen." With that, the stone disappeared in his pocket.

Oliver whizzed about and pressed his lean frame further against the cool surface of the steel pillar, feverishly praying that he'd be able to vanish through it and escape. If he were alive that moment, his heart would be racing loudly.

"No one seems to be here, Henri," came the sixth brother, who had apparently listened intently for human presence.

"Let's clean up first then..." was the reply.

This was the chance the Les Desmond heir saw to make a run for it. The elevator was only a few paces away, but there was a gap that would clearly expose him. There was no choice but to risk it.

Quietly and swiftly, the greenette sprinted to the elevator and jabbed at the 'down' button...too late. The fourth brother saw him.

"What was that?" he asked his companions sharply, effective catching their attention.

"What was what?"

"There behind the elevator."

If Oliver could swear, he would...to high Hell. But all he could do was grit his teeth and wait for the blow to come.

Reminiscent of that fateful day in Luxembourg Park, the group of seven vampires slowly approached to acknowledge him. They were surprised, that was clear...especially the youngest, for in a gasp he was recognized.

At that moment, something gave a 'ting' and the Frenchman fell backward into the open lift.

"Where to, monsieur? And are you alright?" asked the elevator lady cheerfully.

"Yes, I'm fine. Ground floor please," was hastily mumbled out and the stunned teen straightened himself as the elevator doors closed.

- - - -

"We have been overheard!" cried the fifth brother in anguish. The rest of his siblings looked at their youngest brother in fright.

"Don't worry," said Henri. A small, sly smile made itself known in his pale, angular face. "That boy is not a threat."

**TBC**

A/N: I hope you understood that...any questions shall be entertained in when ye review. Special thanks to **Winterblazewolf** for well...being special to me ...enjoy!xD and ciAo...


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